


Flight Path

by NeitherNora



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Order 66, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-05 12:16:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11577903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeitherNora/pseuds/NeitherNora
Summary: Being a retelling of the life and times of Sunder Brightly, ex-padawan and ace pilot flying for the Alliance to Restore the Republic.





	1. Opening Crawl

_**It is a time of galactic unrest and upheaval. In the wake of the Clone Wars, former Supreme Chancellor Palpatine has instated the first GALACTIC EMPIRE.** _

_**Under the command of the Sith Lord DARTH VADER, the Empire sends its Inquisitors, masters of the dark side of the Force, to hunt down and exterminate what few Jedi remain scattered throughout the galaxy.** _

_**Abandoned after the death of her Jedi Master at the hands of Palpatine's clone army, SUNDER BRIGHTLY, a former padawan and ace pilot, puts her skills to work procuring a meager income on the fringes of Imperial space...** _


	2. There Is No Death, There Is the Force

The rain was heavy on her back as she stumbled down the alleyway. He was bigger than her. It'd never meant much before, just a reminder of their difference in age. She was tall for her age, but he'd always told her that soon enough everyone else would catch up.

But they wouldn't, she knew. Not anymore. They were dead. He grunted, and she stopped in a door-frame to examine him.

"We're almost there," she said.

It might be a lie. She didn't know exactly how long of a walk it was to the clinic. All she knew was the sign--hidden from the authorities, encoded in an ad for hydroponic vegetables.

He was fading now, the deep green Mirialan skin gone pale with shock and...worse. She didn't look at her own wound. He gasped for breath, and despite it all, she couldn't feel him in the Force. Whatever fear and pain he might be feeling was drowned out by her own panic coming off in waves. His hand reached for her, touched her cheek.

"Brightly...." The hiss of a dying man. Her tears mix with the rain. "I don't think I'm going to make it out of this one."

Every word was a struggle. Something was wrong with his lungs. Her heart felt sick as ice cold fear and boiling anger fought for control of her mind.

"Don't say that!" Her voice cracked.

"Shhhh..." He wiped a tear from her cheek. "Brightly...you have to go on without me now. Okay?"

She shook her head. "Nova, please....don't go. We can make it, it's only a few more-"

"Brightly." Somehow he still managed to sound stern on death's door, and she respected him so much for that strength. He pressed something metal and cold into her hand.

"Stay safe. Keep moving, don't get complacent. They'll follow you."

He nearly passed out, but fought it, clawing back into consciousness. She saw it, and fresh tears fall.

"Remember what I've taught you. You have a good heart. Don't let them take it from you."

She nodded. All she could do was nod. Her throat was clogged with something.

"Say the words with me," he whispered. "One last time."

She wiped her nose. "There is no emotion, there is peace."

He took in a ragged breath. "There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

The thing in her throat almost kept her from continuing. "There is no passion, there is serenity."

The rain almost drowns out his answer. "There is no chaos, there is harmony."

She sobbed then, finally losing composure. His sightless eyes looked past her, curtained by heartbroken brows. A frail hand gripped her shoulder.

"There is no death," he rasps. "There is the Force."

Her mourning was cut short by the sound of marching feet. When she looked back, she was holding nothing but tattered, empty robes.

It was hard to run while weeping, but she did her best.


	3. Escort Mission

The pinpricks in the void spunn and twisted before her as Sunder Brightly swooped back around, determined to catch her target. Her ship, a dull grey Delta-7 Aethersprite, was just barely nimble enough to keep up with the TIE fighters that were now swarming like so many angry wasps.

Their target was the lumbering freighter full of black market goods, criminal stowaways, stolen speeders, and Sunder's next paycheck. She didn't look forward to going back into the swollen craft once the battle was done and the enemy routed. The corridors were narrow and the gravity didn't always work. Entertainment was virtually nonexistent.

Virtually.

But she forced those thoughts from her mind and focused on the battle at hand. A quick pull of the triggers sent a TIE spinning into the void. She took no pleasure in ending lives, but she did feel a creeping satisfaction at having bested another pilot. Her thoughts were interrupted as a nearby explosion rocked her ship.

"Hey Farlander, looks like you've got some chasers. Falling in."

She flipped her comms on. "Copy, Bluebird. I'll keep them nice and even for you."

She dropped her evasive maneuvers and flew straight as she could. Before her she saw the acid green blasterfire sweep down toward her, a plasma guillotine as the pilot on her tail brought her into their sights. Then, nothing. A Naboo N-1 starfighter, painted deep blue and guns smoking, pulled up on her right.

She rolled, swooping over her partner and creating a double helix of exhaust. For a moment, they can see each other across a channel of void. The pilot, Riley Alya, gave her a lazy thumbs up, which she returned before righting her ship on Riley's right. The two veered off on opposite directions and returned to the fray.

\---

"I just don't want to," Sunder said before ducking her head back under the control panel of the Farlander.

D6, the astromech integrated into her ship, gave a low whistle and click. Rolling her eyes, Sunder continued her work reconnecting a set of wires. She was having trouble fitting her hands into the aperture where they connected, and feeling rough metal scrape her already contorted hand was leaving her patience similarly worn.

A slip of the hand had her pulling her arm out of the hole with a curse as a few red drops mar the oil-stained floor of the hanger.

"Kriff..." she hissed, sucking the wound.

"Looks like you need a hand," quipped a voice. "Pardon the pun."

She hit her head on the console at the voice, eliciting another curse. Finally extricating her head, she saw the familiar sight of a bald Zabrak sitting on the edge of her ship, legs kicking idly.

"Oh. Hey, Kass."

Kass crawled over the hull, pausing to give D6 a gentle pat on the head. They got a cheerful whistle in response.

"Of course you're perfectly polite when we have company..." she spat, sending a glare at the droid.

Kass giggled. "He's just starved for affection, I bet." Their hand slipped down under the console, bringing their face within inches of Sunder's.

"Will you get out of my-"

A soft shudder ran through the cockpit, and three green dots lit up on the console. Sunder sighed, huffing at her friend.

"Showoff."

Kass smiled, then leaned in and kissed her on her grease-smeared cheek. Sunder grinned.

"Wish I could take you into space instead of this bucket of bolts."

D6 let out an irritated whine. Kass giggled again. Sunder loved that sound. It took her a moment to realize she was staring, but the realization didn't prompt her to look away.

"You're doing the thing again," said Kass.

"What thing?"

"The thing where you stare at me like some slack-jawed nerf herder."

"Best keep my jaw moving, then." She pulled them into a kiss, deep and kinetic. Their fingers gripped her hair and their teeth nipped at her lip. D6 turned away with an annoyed bleep.

"Now now," whispered Kass when their mouths parted. "Fresher first. I'm not letting you get grease on my sheets again"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Her legs felt weak as she exited the hangar, Kass's hand in hers. As the door swept shut, D6 gave a soft, lonely whistle.


	4. Ruminations

The Alabaster Corridor was an old ship, a sprawling corpse of rust and fuel. But it's served Harken well. He sat back in his chair, ignoring its faint creaking under his weight. Holograms over his desk showed a readout of the Owryk system. Imperial presence was low this far into the Outer Rim, but he knew this region. If pirates came out of their hiding holes, tracing his ship and expecting an easy target, his hired pilots would no doubt give them pause.

It was an unorthodox security measure these days. Most caravan leaders were known to hire companies. Squads of pilots under a single commander. He disliked such congregations. If he was to pay someone to do a job, he'd much rather have the ambiguous tension of competition among his hired wings. He found it helps keep them loyal where a company might unite and demand more pay at an inopportune time.

He had three pilots on his payroll for this trip, and he was starting to wonder if perhaps he'd hired one too many. He hemmed and hawed over the list, deciding who to let go. The contracts they signed were binding, of course--if any of them wanted to take their dispute up with a Hutt. Not many people cared to do that.

Riley Alya. A human with dark skin and hair, native to...Corellia, if her record was to be believed. He had doubts that any of these pilots were actually who they said they were. She flew a Naboo fighter. He didn't linger on her too long. He knew talent when he saw it, and she was one hell of a pilot.

Kass Miral. Zabrak of unrecorded gender. They kept their horns painted bright red, and it contrasted well with their tan skin. Not quite the same piloting chops as Alya, but they had a decade of experience in ship repairs that he was reluctant to scoff at. Their repurposed Headhunter was in the best condition of all the ships in his convoy.

Sunder Brightly. A tall, pale human with dark hair and a deep voice. A decent pair of wings and a persuasive tone set her apart. In hindsight, he realized he knew very little about her. Even her (probably false) records were sparse. There was also the matter of her ship. He'd seen more than a few Delta-7s as a young man in the war, and he was well aware of what type of people used to fly them. He let out a hum of dissatisfaction. Better keep an eye on her.

Three capable pilots. He rolled them around in his head. Alya was the best pilot by far, but she was also an asshole. Dropping her could be messy. Brightly was suspicious, but he'd heard some rumors about what she and Kass got up to after flights, and Kass...no, Kass had to stay. With his usual chief mechanic now gone, he couldn't afford to lose their expertise.

And so he decided, in his usual grumpy way, to keep all three of them aboard. He'd eat the cost now so he could eat his dinner tomorrow. He dismissed the holographic displays and exited his office.


End file.
